Among the Dagara of Burkina Faso there is no distinction between the natural and the supernatural: the living converse with ancestral spirits,
and those with proper knowledge routinely travel to other worlds.

Malidoma Patrice Somé was born in a Dagara village only to be
abducted as a small boy and taken to a Jesuit mission school, where for for fifteen years he was harshly indoctrinated in European ways of thought and worship.
When he returned to his people, he had to undergo an initiation so rigorous that it might have killed him.
Instead Malidoma's passage between two worlds resulted in an assignment to convey his people's knowledge to the West,
leading to this story of rare healing and wisdom.

Of Water and the Spirit is a remarkable sharing of living African traditions, offered in compassion for those struggling with our contempoorary crisis of the
spirit.

"Here is a man who has experienced ancient initiation in our time.
The spiritual depth of African culture becomes clear." - Robert Bly.

It is planned to record this script.

The Beginning of the Dramatisation

PART ONE: UP TO THE AGE OF FIVE

SOUNDS OF THE BURKINA FASO SAVANNAH. A WOMAN WALKING AND
SINGING TREMULOUSLY TO THE CHILD STRAPPEDTO HER BACK

MALIDOMA:

My mother used to carry me on her back when she collected wood. I loved to be knitted close to her. She loved music and perceived nature as song.
But she sang tremulously,as if she were mourning something or someone. Perhaps her marriage was not happy.

SOUND OF BOY RUNNING THROUGH BUSHES AND STOPPING

MALIDOMA:

When I was three, I chased a rabbit into an earthen hole, but instead of finding it,

FADE IN ELECTRONIC MUSIC, SAMPLED FROM INDIGENOUS DAGARA MUSIC

MALIDOMA:

I met an old man with a long white beard as small as the rabbit
All around him was a shining rainbow, like a round window into another world.

KONTOMBLÉ:

I have been watching you for a long time. Why do you want to hurt the rabbit? He is your little brother.

MALIDOMA AS A SMALL BOY:

I .... I ... don't know.

KONTOMBLÉ:

Be friendly to him. He too has a mother who cares for him. Now go because your mother is worried about you

MALIDOMA AS AN ADULT:

He then walked away through the window, and the earth closed up behind him, leaving a fresh breeze.

FADE MUSIC

MOTHER:

(CALLING) Malidoma! Malidoma!
(APPROACHING, WORRIED) I have been looking since noon. It's almost dark. Where you been?

MALIDOMA:

I told her. Children see many things that adults donŐt see. But my mother believed.

MOTHER:

You've seen a kontomblé, a spirit from the underworld. You've seen him too soon.
To save you from danger you will need initiation earlier than most. Every year some initiates die, but is safer for you to do it sooner.

CHANTING AND PERCUSSION AND THE SOUNDS OF THE AFRICAN
BUSH UNDER OPENING ANNOUNCEMENTS.

MALIDOMA:

My name is Malidoma. It means 'Friend to the Stranger'.
I was born of the Dagara people in Burkina Faso, meaning the 'Land of the Proud Ancestors'.
We Dagara believe that each of us is born with a special destiny. We believe our ancient spiritual knowledge can help to heal Western society.

I am a man of two worlds. This is my story.

MALIDOMA:

A Dagara Elder

BRING UP CHANTING AND PERCUSSION AND TAKE DOWN

My most important relationship was with my grandfather. Grandfathers will soon return to where their grandsons have come from;
so grandsons are the bearer of important news.

He was the shaman of a family of over fifty souls. He wore filthy clothes, because the more intense the life of the spirit,
the less attention is paid to outward beauty.

GRANDFATHER:

Your initiation will be a bitter experience. You must learn to control the body's urge.
Don't eat or sleep or wash too much.

MALIDOMA:

Later I understood that for the Dagara dirtiness was a sign of holiness. Cleanliness can often hide something dirty.
Grandfather smelt and was filthy on the outside. His beauty was within.

GRANDFATHER:

Be alert and firm. DonŐt let physical satisfaction temper your warrior-ship.
Remember our ancestors are spirits. They feed only their minds. That is why they can do things beyond our comprehension.

MALIDOMA:

He loved having me next to him.

GRANDFATHER:

I call you Brother because you are the reincarnation of Birifor my older brother.

MALIDOMA AS A SMALL BOY:

If I am Birifor, why do you call me Malidoma?

GRANDFATHER:

Malidoma, Friend to the Enemy, is your true name. That is what our ancestors call you.
Patrice was the name given to you by the Jesuits. Your father is friends with that white bearded man up on the hill.
Catholics seem to like his medicine and the God he serves; but a god who sends his people so far from their home must be drinking
very strong wine.

MALIDOMA;

Grandfather's room housed the pharmacy of the entire Birifor clan, an array of roots and talismans,
daily collected and nightly prepared, to face all sorts of illnesses and emergencies both spiritual and physical.
I entered his room for the first time just before he died. I was only four, but every word he said is engraved upon my memory.

(CLOSE AND INTIMATE INTERIOR ACOUSTIC)

GRANDFATHER:

The spirit of this room is using me to speak to you.
Very soon you will leave home. You have been chosen to be the ear of your brothers and the mouth of your tribe.
You came from the water, which in our tradition is the spirit of peace and reconciliation.

You will go to the West to learn the wisdom of the White Man and represent to them the truth we profess.
You are going to be initiated into white man's witchcraft. It will be the hardest thing you ever do, but my spirit will stand by your side.

The Dagara right of initiation must be completed before you come to a full understanding of who you are. Never forget where you come from.
You hold the destinies of thousands of your peoples. I salute you. Now I must go.

MALIDOMA:

Those were his last words to me.

WE HEAR THE FUNERAL XYLOPHONE FROM A DISTANCE. TWO SHARP NOTES, SWIFTLY RENDERED, FOLLOWED BY A DEVELOPMENT OF THE OCTAVE.
THEN A CENTRAL NOTE CONTINUALLY SUSTAINED UNDER THE FUNERAL MESSAGE.

READER:

A great chief left this morning for the great journey . . . . the living are
mournful.

THIS IS FOLLOWED BY MALE AND FEMALE XYLOPHONES IN DIALOGUE, THE FUNERAL DRUM, LAMENTATIONS AND ECSTATIC CHANTS. (SEE CHAPTER 3 OF BOOK FOR FULL DESCRIPTION)

MALIDOMA:

At his funeral millions of tears washed him to the realm of the dead.
Unlike Westerners, the Dagara believe it is terrible to suppress one's grief.
Only by passionate expression can loss be tamed. Also the dead have the right to collect their share of tears.

The music must be kept going. Without music and chanting there is no funeral, no grief, no death.

MIX FUNERAL EFFECTS INO THE SOUND OF THE SLOW BLOWING OF THE WÉLÉ ,
THE HUNTING WHISTLE, THE GALLOPING HOOVES OF AN APROACHING HERD OF DEER, THE YELLING OF THE ALARMED WOMEN

On the third day of the funeral to the north east a cloud of dust darkened the sky.
A herd of deer rushed towards us chest down, tossing their branchlike horns.

PEOPLE RUN SCREAMING AWAY

The most courageous mourners never moved. They knew the illusion of the herd was controlled from Grandfather's room.
As the herd ran into the crowd, they melted into thin air.

FADE TO SILENCE

The elders had created this illusion, because of grandfather's close relationship, as hunter and healer, to the animal world.

Just as the devout in the West used to see angels and the Irish saw leprechauns,
so next we saw the Kontomblé from the underworld paying homage at grandfather's grave.
They were short and red with pointed ears and genitals so long they had to roll them round their necks.

Grandfather had spoken of them.

GRANDFATHER:

They are the strongest and most intelligent of beings, part of the universal consciousness. They are
responsible for much of our joy, teaching us to brew millet beer.
Their homes are in caves that serve as portals between our world and theirs.

MALIDOMA:

Having made their homage to Grandfather they marched off, disappearing behind a tree.
Now it was time for chief medicine man to intone the closing ritual.

THE BOBURO INTONES IN DAGARA. WHILE THE READER TRANSLATES

READER:

We may never hear
The thunder come out
Of the lion's mouth
We may never see his claws
The claws that once served
The peace of our village
How much longer can we survive?
Yé Yé Yé

THE MALE XYLOPHONE STARTS AND THE MEN BEGIN TO SING:

Pélé pélé, pélé pélé
(Empty, empty, empty)
The leaves of the branches
The branches of the tree,
All fed on the roots

Now leaves without branches
Branches without roots
How do you stay alive?

Ah! This village is lost. Yéééééé

A MOURNFUL WAIL BEGUN BY THE MEN IS SUSTAINED BY THE WOMEN. IT DIES AWAY INTO OBLIVION TO THE REFRAIN OF THE XYLOPHONE

MALIDOMA:

The funeral ground slowly emptied. Grandfather had truly died. A new era had begun.

Elié, my father, faced the responsibilities of taking over Grandfather's spiritual duties,
yet he didn't wish to give up his new religion.

Father Maillot, the Jesuit missionary, visited us.
He looked like a ghost.
He had an immense nose the size of an anthill that looked down on his thick beard like a giraffe on a small tree.
His eyes, like blue mirrors, were so transparent that they seemed to peer at me from the underworld.

He talked to my father, but his Dagara was so bad, I could not understand. Father replied.

FATHER:

I don't know. But if that is the will of God, I hope this time it doesn't mean death.

MALIDOMA:

When father had first abandoned the religion of his ancestors, two daughters,
one son and his first wife had all died.
Father stared at me. He said:

FATHER:

Go outside and play.

SOUND OF APPROACHING MOTORBIKE ON ROUGH TRACK.

MALIDOMA:

A few days later, when father and mother had gone to the bush,
Father Maillot appeared on his motorbike. I hid behind a huge clay pot. I felt an irresistible need to cough,

ONE SMALL BOY'S FRIGHTENED COUGH

He grabbed me and put me before him on the fuel tank of his enormous motorbike. It roared like a lion.

THE MOTORBIKE STARTS LIKE "THE ROAR OF A LION" AND DISAPPEARS WHERE IT HAS COME FROM.

Never again would I hear my mother's songs at work or join in the dances of the Birifor.
Grandfather's prophecy had come true. At the age of five my childhood was coming to an end.